


francis forever

by snailmeamail



Category: Half-Life
Genre: ADD Gordon Freeman, ASL, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Movie Night, Mute Gordon Freeman, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Selectively Mute Gordon Freeman, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25667590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailmeamail/pseuds/snailmeamail
Summary: They really shouldn’t be doing this. It’s one in the morning, and tomorrow’s a big day,the day--the day Anomalous Materials finally finds out just what the new specimen is. It should be no problem for Anti-Mass Spectrometer. It’s an important test, for sure, but you just don’t cancel movie night, so Gordon is going through with this. Having Barney in his room, on his own bed, mere two inches away from him...he feels like a teenager.--A movie night fic with Gordon and his dense, action-loving best friend, who he pines for (and is unsure if the other feels the same).
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 18
Kudos: 214





	francis forever

“It’s a good thing Doc Kleiner snuck us that DVD player, isn’t it, Gord?” Barney says as he’s untying the laces of his boots. He’s left the helmet and bulletproof vest in the locker room; he’s wearing the baby blue button-up and black slacks underneath. “Hey, thanks for hosting tonight. I was trying to tell Arlo that our TV didn’t have bulletproof glass, but he never listens to me, I swear.”

As everyone knows, the scientists at Black Mesa have their own dormitories. Semi-furnished rooms, complete with one bed, a TV, and facilities; even a lounge and a pool. The security guards, however, have barracks and only one TV among themselves. Usually, it’d be all those guards and one scientist (Gordon) attending movie night. But as Barney had said, Arlo, the greenhorn, was fully convinced the TV was bulletproof. As if Black Mesa had the budget.

Gordon nods, going through Barney’s stack of DVDs. They’re action movies, one after the other--Gordon recognizes a few titles, if only because Barney likes to rant about them during their break. This one had a good plot, but pretty shoddy camera work. That one is just _full_ of explosions; there’s more gunfire and nukes than coherent dialogue. Ugh, don’t get Barney started on this next one-- _Duke of Action_. He hates it so much, he had spent the two hours total of their breaks in a day dedicated to ripping it apart.

He returns to his bed, tapping Barney on the shoulder. The guard looks up, and his nose immediately scrunches at the sight of the foul disc. “Ugh. Don’t get me _started_ on that thing.” Gordon huffs, a small smile on his lips, before holding an imaginary paper ball in one hand, then throwing it away. _Throw it away, Barney._

“It may be all nine circles of Hell awful,” Barney replies, “but I ain’t throwing it away. Sure, I’ve seen better choreography done in _Sesame Street_ , but there’s a charm to it, ya know? Every rewatch it feels like there’s some new detail to rip into. Adds a whole new level of audience participation!”

Barney’s eyes glint with a dreamy look--Gordon shakes his head minutely. He definitely wants to watch this one. He crosses the room to slot the DVD in and turns on the TV. Barney doesn’t protest, so Gordon knows his theory is right. He just knows the other man well enough at this point. He takes the spot beside Barney. The latter passes him one of the snacks they had gotten from the break room. He tears it open, and the movie begins.

They really shouldn’t be doing this. It’s one in the morning, and tomorrow’s a big day, _the_ day--the day Anomalous Materials finally finds out just what the new specimen is. It should be no problem for Anti-Mass Spectrometer. It’s an important test, for sure, but you just don’t _cancel_ movie night, so Gordon is going through with this. Having Barney in his room, on his own bed, mere two inches away from him...he feels like a teenager.

He nibbles at an overly salty potato chip to get rid of the thought. The last time he had done this sort of thing had been in college; he ended up making out with the guy after. He and Barney are best friends, that’s all. He’s well aware how Barney swings--like a merry-go-round--but he can’t bring himself to _do it_. He doesn’t want to mess up this good, good thing that they have. 

“I’m not a prayin’ man, Gordon,” Barney starts, “but I pray _Duke of Action_ 2 never gets to see the light of day.” Gordon doesn’t tell him it had hit theaters last week. “What the--you can’t just _lift_ a car like that! Come on, adrenaline definitely doesn’t work like that. Doc, you’d know, right?” He looks at Gordon, eyebrows raised.

Gordon deadpans, then points to his framed degree of Theoretical Physics, given to him by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, that hangs on the wall right behind the TV. He bends his first two fingers on each hand, puts them together, brings them apart, then back to touching. _Physics, Barney, physics._

“Right, right. I gotta ask one of the medical officers then.” He turns back to the screen, eyes shining with each burst of gunfire.

Gordon can say the first act of the film isn’t so bad; Duke Feint just got out of a burning Seattle with nothing but a horse and precious nuclear launch codes (“A horse, Gordon. This man is with the FBI. their very tippy-top agent, and he has a goddang _horse_!”). He’s on his way to the coast to board a boat that’ll take him to England, where he’ll pass off the codes to an American mole in MI6. 

As they segue into the second act, Duke Feint pushing his horse hard as they gallop away from a truck with a rattling machine gun in the back, Gordon’s mind drifts to the man beside him.

Barney’s hair had been shorn to military standard a few months back; it’s gotten spikier as it’s grown. Gordon remembers the day he had showed up to his shift with that new haircut--he had nearly dropped his coffee cup in his rush to inspect him. With the other man’s permission, Gordon had gotten to touch the fuzz. The texture had been delightful, and it had been just enough to get Gordon through a disgustingly boring shift. There’s still fuzz around Barney’s ears, but he’s no longer got that menacing widow’s peak.

He’s got eyebags from late shifts, as does Gordon. The latter licks the salt from his fingers. Barney’s eyes aren’t the same green as his, with the former’s being less electric and more muted, like the canals in the lower levels of Black Mesa. There are flecks of blue in there, too. At this point, Gordon knows he’s not focused on the screen. He vaguely knows what’s happening, can hear what Barney’s saying, but he’s not processing any of it.

It’s all so small compared to Barney N. Calhoun. They’ve been best friends for so long that Gordon’s become the only person (besides the administrator, obviously) who actually knows what the N stands for. In college, Gordon didn’t have a best friend. Sure, he had friends that he had hung out with, gone to parties with, spent all night bouncing thesis ideas off of with...but they weren’t Barney. 

The first day they had met, Gordon had introduced himself using a notepad. He had braced himself for the usual _Why can’t you talk_? question, but to his surprise and delight, Barney had said no such thing. What he had said was: “ _Oh. That’s alright, doc, I’ll get to learnin’. It’d be mighty inconvenient for the both of us if you had to carry a notepad and pen around just to talk._ ” 

From that day on, Gordon had taught him everything. When he couldn’t, Barney picked up a few books--that had been another thing Gordon had been surprised by; how much of an avid reader Barney is. He’d read anything under the sun if you loaned it to him. Now, Barney’s fluent. He still messes up from time to time, but Gordon really doesn’t care. The fact that he had made an effort at all to talk to him makes up for all the times he had thought the sign for _Thank you_ is done from the bottom of his chin outwards--a very, _very_ different sign that one is.

They’ve been best friends for years now. They know each other’s favorite colours; they listen to each other’s rants; they speak the same language; Gordon should be happy with that, and he is, God he is! But...he’s so _lonely_. He’s spent years in Black Mesa going unnoticed, because no one would know ASL off the top of their head, and those who had been rude about it didn’t see the value of a mute scientist at all.

He’s eternally grateful that Dr. Kleiner and Dr. Vance do know ASL, and he considers them his best friends, too--they are two of the only people who _see_ him and understand. When Barney jumped at the idea of learning it, he had seen Gordon, too. 

Maybe it’s for the best that Barney’s attention is elsewhere, because Gordon is well aware that he’s staring. Barney has stubble; he shaved earlier that day. He smells like detergent and chlorine. He’s sitting so close to Gordon that the scientist could lean his head against his shoulder. The urge is mighty. With that smile on his face, Barney looks like a kid in a candy store. He loves these movies. His eyes get shiny, he’s starts smiling, starts leaning towards it like he’s eager to hear more--

Barney looks at him the same way. Barney probably doesn’t know that Gordon sees those glances when he’s signing away excitedly about so-and-so topic, or when they sit together during break, or even when they had held a movie night with all the other security guards. Gordon had seen that glance from across the room. At the end of the day, however, they’re just _glances_. They’re acknowledgments that he’s there, occupying space.

They tell each other things often, without words, without signs. Barney buys Gordon lunch for small, on the spot celebrations like “commending that lizard for besting that cockroach” or “for not spacing out in the laser room”. Gordon lends Barney a book, knowing just how much he’d like it. He tells him stories. He brings him snacks.

They carry out entirely silent conversations, their hands at their sides, everyday. There are some things that can be left alone and unspoken--and then there is one fundamental human part that can’t. That is the one conversation Gordon isn’t ready to have, and it starts with one sign: to cross your fists over your chest in an X. To say, _I love you, Barney._

To have Barney say it back--if he’ll say it at all.

He jumps when he notices Barney looking straight at him. He smiles--it rockets Gordon out of his thoughts and he looks away, embarrassed. He’s got goosebumps all over his shoulders. “Likin’ the view?” Barney murmurs, amused. “I’m gonna have to start chargin’ by the hour, Gord. Ya missed the movie.”

Gordon takes a peek at the screen; Barney’s right. The credits are already rolling. He also notices that his hands are suspiciously empty of the bag of chips he’s pretty sure he didn’t finish. He looks back at Barney, who’s toothy smile nearly blinds him, and catches the other man red-handed. He tries to shake off his thoughts and pursue this instead, to keep present.

He narrows his eyes and points at the damning evidence in Barney’s hand, which dribbles crumbs all over his finger-less gloves. Then, he puts two fingers under his nose and swipes, as if he’s wiping sweat from his upper lip. _Thief!_

Barney smirks, then pops the chip into his mouth. Gordon gasps, putting a hand to his chest in partially exaggerated horror. “Sorry, doc,” Barney says, completely insincere, “if you want them back you’re gonna have to take it from my cold, dead hands.” 

Gordon grunts and adjusts his glasses. He puts his hands apart, then brings one to the underside of his chin with only the thumb and pinky outstretched. _Big mistake, buster_. Barney chuckles darkly. “Oh, it’s on.”

Gordon makes the first move. He launches himself across Barney’s lap, grabbing fruitlessly at the bag, which Barney holds out in the opposite hand. He squawks less than gracefully as he nearly falls off the bed. Barney’s quick to action and he grabs the back of Gordon’s shirt. The scientist appreciates it, but it gives him enough leverage to twist around onto his back and snatch the bag from Barney’s unsuspecting, loser hands. 

He’s about to enjoy the fruits of his victory when Barney’s hand comes down on his wrist, pinning both the bag and his wrist against the bed. The same goes for the other hand. Gordon blanches and looks up. Barney, hair tussled and face red, looks down at him with that dorky, toothy smile.

“I win.” He declares, though it comes out as a whisper. Gordon lets his mouth hang open, his own cheeks and ears heating up something awful. Barney’s breath fogs his glasses. He can smell the sweet and heavy scent of laundry soap coming from the other man’s shirt. His soft gloves rub against his Gordon’s wrists, fingers splayed across his palms, little points of warmth. For a moment, there is just their breathing, ragged and quiet.

Barney’s olive green eyes are conflicted; Gordon can’t tell what it is he intends to do. He can’t ask, either. Gordon finds that his eyes are on Barney’s lips--appreciating every imperfection and tiny scar, every bit of stubble. The minutes tick by in silence. The more quiet it becomes, the more worried Gordon becomes and the more hot the iron coil in his stomach grows. He mouths, _Barney?_

The man in question blinks. “I...” he starts, then stops. “I-I, uh...doc, I think I...” Gordon leans his head back. He bites the inside of his cheek. His heart is beating rapidly in his ears. This is it. This is the conversation he’s been dreading and wanting for years. Just when he thinks he’s going to walk away from this satisfied, the tightly wounded coil inside of Gordon snaps as Barney pulls away, leaving only a warm impression of him on his wrists. 

He can’t even begin to sign his shock, much less his apprehension. He clears his throat and sits up. He pats his shirt down. Barney sits with his legs crossed. The awkwardness in the room is palpable. The bag of chips lay behind them, forgotten.

“That was, um,” Barney says, looking into the far corner. “some movie.” 

Gordon nods, numb. Had he done something wrong?

“Yeah, I really liked the part where he...” Barney trails off into the pitfall of silence. Gordon grips the bed sheet tight. His pride isn’t the only thing that’s wounded--his heart pangs painfully. If he keeps quiet, they can move past this. They don’t have to acknowledge that this had happened at all. 

They can keep being friends. They can continue talking without saying anything, gesturing but never explaining; they can continue to live in the silence, to have unspoken conversations, to never say the one thing Gordon _knows_ is on both of their minds--but goddamnit the silence has become _unbearable_. He turns to Barney. He puts his hand on the other man’s knee. Barney looks at the hand, at him, then the hand again.

He signs, _What happens next?_

Barney licks his lips, and coughs. “I don’t know, doc,” he answers, shaking his head minutely. Almost immediately, he looks back up, eyebrows knitted tightly, jaw set in determination. “But what I did wasn’t some kinda mistake, or somethin’. You didn’t do anything wrong. I-I’m just...mighty nervous, ‘s all.”

Gordon raises his brows. His shoulders sag with relief. _You_ \--He tries to keep his hands from shaking-- _feel the same_?

“I’m pretty s-sure I always have.” 

It’s not the confession he’s dreamed of, but the scientist can’t fight the smile that wrestles its way onto his face. Barney smiles, too, once he sees it. Gordon starts laughing, a quiet wheezing, and Barney follows suit with his snickering. Their quiet is replaced with joy. Barney feels the same way--he _always_ has. 

How long had _always_ been, Gordon wants to ask, but the guard starts lacing up his boots before he can. When he’s done, he stands, grabs the DVD from the player, and crosses the room. Gordon follows, holding the bag of chips in one hand and tugging at Barney’s sleeve with the other. The other man just grins at the sight of the bag.

“Nah, you keep it,” he says, “Could always put a little more meat on those bones.”

Gordon mirrors his grin and he opens the door for Barney. The latter hesitates, then leans against the door frame with one arm. “Hey, uh,” he starts, then clears his throat. “Thanks for hostin’ tonight, Gordon, I really appreciate it. It was nice, it being just the two of us...a-and I’m sorry if things got a little out of hand at the end there, I didn’t mean anything by it--I mean, no, I did mean _something_ , but if you don’t want me to...” He groans. “I’ll shut up now.”

  
The scientist waves him off, then with a bit of hesitation, puts his fists over his chest in an X. Barney squints, then scratches his head. “I’m ‘fraid I don’t know that one, yet,” he says, “but I’ll flip through the book you gave me when I get back.” Gordon nods; it’s the best he could ask for. “Goodnight, Gordon. Good luck with that test of yours. I’ll be cheerin’ you on.”

He waves. He watches Barney go down the hall, and keeps watching well after he disappears. Before he crawls into bed, he opens his laptop and begins to compose an email, short and brief, addressed to one _barney.calhoun612@blckmesamail.com._

_Barney,_

_I would love to ask you this in person, but you know how the test will be tomorrow; ruthless, no breaks, and several OSHA violations...the golden Black Mesa standard, right?  
_

He could write a seven page essay on the golden Black Mesa standard, but he shakes his head and gets back on topic. _Anyway, I know you really hate the first one but_

He stops. He realizes he’s asking Barney to go on a date with him. Gordon’s ears warm again and he huffs through his nostrils. He slips his hands under his glasses and rubs his eyes. He puts his hands on the keyboard again and deletes the last line.

Duke of Action _wasn’t exactly great, but the sequel came out last week. I was thinking we could go out and_ Go out? Go _out_? On a _date_? The blinking cursor mocks him. Backspace, backspace, backspace...

_Barney, pal, buddy, friend of mine_

Goddamnit. Gordon gets up and walks around the room, running his hands through his hair. Why is this so hard? He has a doctorate in Theoretical Physics; asking his best friend out on a date should be a cake walk! He sits back down. 

_Barney, I love y_

_NO, GORDON, YOU JUST CAN’T OUTRIGHT SAY IT_ , he yells at himself. He gets back up, groaning mentally. It’s three in the morning sharp when he sits down with determination and plenty of words.

_I had fun last night. I know you didn’t mean to do...that but I wanted you to know I didn’t really mind. Would it be weird if I say I enjoyed it? Oh God, it’s weird isn’t it? Anyway, I wasn’t watching Duke of Action as closely as you were, but I’m sure you’re aware of that. It amazes me how much you can hate and love a movie at the same time. Only you could do that, Barnes._

_Do you love (and hate) that movie enough to go watch the sequel_ Duke of Action 2: The Duchess _with me this weekend?_ He pauses _. If you want to invite Dr. Kleiner and Dr. Vance, I’m okay with that, but I’m also cool with just the two of us--_ Cool? _\-- but I’ll be fine with just the two of us._

_And maybe after the movie, we can get a beer. If that’s okay with you. I mean, it’ll be a Saturday, anyway. One more thing, Barney; if you ever figure out what that sign is, the one just before you left, if you understand what I was trying to say--don’t say anything._

_I’ll speak for the both of us._

_Dr. Gordon Freeman_   
_Anomalous Materials_

_\--_

Gordon hovers over it for a minute. Then, he nods, and presses _send_. A small ping tells him the email went through, and he shuts the laptop close. He crawls into bed and faces the ceiling. His eyelids weigh tonnes. No more silence. No more waiting. 

Tomorrow, the test will be a success. All will be well.

\--

Like most things unbearable, you often wish for its return, because the aftermath is worse. When Gordon’s ears fill with shotgun blasts, the harsh ringing of tinnitus, the screams of scientists he can’t save, and the cries of the creatures that have breached Black Mesa, he wishes for the silence.

He wishes Barney was right here beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> a couple of things  
> \- duke of action is indeed based off of part of the last of us 2  
> \- duke is literally his first name and his rank  
> \- the tvs in black mesa ARE bulletproof, but black mesa gave the security guards an old hand me down  
> \- the guards love having gordon over for movie night!! he considers a lot of them his friends  
> \- you can consider this a prequel to my other work "Catch Me Later"
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
